The Harsh Reality
by 19TheAwesomeness97
Summary: Global warming. It wasn't a theory; it was reality. And it was killing off the nations by the dozen.  No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

~The Harsh Reality~

They all knew it would happen. But they didn't realize it would happen so quickly. It affected all the countries; affected all the people. Was this to be their fate? Trapped in a world where their life is to be ended at any moment? It was sickening to watch. Everything they cherished was destroyed; or if it wasn't destroyed, it would be demolished in only a moment. This, some people called, was 'Global Warming.' Others called it the end of the world. Either way, this was something that no one could joke about. How long would it be until there was absolutely nothing left? How long until each of the personifications and their people fade away into nothing? Would, after this calamity had reigned in its wrath, the human species even exist? No one knew.

As a result of the massive flooding, natural disasters of all sizes were occurring all over the world. In Iceland, the volcanoes were constantly erupting; and almost everyone evacuated the lone island to places all around Europe; mainly in Scandinavia. In Russia, the snow was melting like crazy. Towns and cities were flooding over; everyone was extremely frantic. In mid-Africa, the heat was getting to be unbearable; and water was extremely scarce.

The micro-nation, Sealand, who's country was made completely of metal and was in the middle of the ocean; was flooded completely. The whereabouts of its citizens are unknown; although they are most likely all to be dead. England was the first one to confirm the previous statement; for the personification watched the boy die in his arms.

It had been a somewhat calmer day, before the Global Warming ordeal wasn't as severe. Sealand had been bugging England, when he suddenly started coughing violently, blood coming out of his mouth. England frantically had tried to get the young boy to stop, but nothing worked. Nothing /could/ work. There are ways that personifications can manage to stay alive even if their country is gone, but since Sealand's micronation was very small and unstable; the persona died along with his citizens and country.

England didn't leave his house that day. He stayed inside; holding the dead boy in his arms until Sealand's body disappeared into thin air.

_England looked down at Sealand, whose eyes were closed and his life had already left him._

"_I acknowledge the country of Sealand, which is now a full-fledged nation. Let the spirits of its citizens live on in this world..." _

_He kissed the fading boy's forehead, a sad look in his eyes, and he watched as Sealand eventually faded from his arms. Tears fell from his eyes, as he looked down into his arms where the boy used to be. _

_"Goodbye, Peter... I'll miss you and your bloody annoying proclamations of being a country, your sneaking into meetings disguised as Canada, and all the times you called me a jerk. I hope you're happy, wherever you are now..."_

_ A sad smile graced the Englishman's face, as the reality of these mishaps struck him across the face. First, Sealand would die. Who would be next? Seychelles? She was a small island in the middle of the ocean; it's very likely she would die soon. And after that...? The Faeroe Islands? Puerto Rico? And how about after all the tiny, lone islands had flooded over? Who would be next..? _

_"Heh... I'll probably be the next nation to go after all the small ones flood. I guess my reign as the great and feared bloody British Empire has ended, hm? It's quite a bittersweet feeling..." _

_The blonde man broke out into a fit of laughter; hollow and filled with sadness. He was dying. Him, who had lived so long and seen so much of the world, was dying. It used to be almost unbelievable, but after Sealand's death; it was much more than believable. It was reality. It was the brutal, honest truth. His time here on Earth was going to end very soon... All he could do now is wait; and help out the people of his land as much as possible before his death came upon him._

[Lost Sealand.]

A few weeks later, the personifications held a World Meeting. No one's condition was pretty to look at; and the majority had major injuries. The World Meeting was taking place in the United States; which was one of the more safe countries, although by no means was living there "safe". All throughout the USA, there was constant floods, earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornadoes. Both the east and west coasts were beginning to flood over; and the mid-western and mid-eastern parts of the US were constantly struck with tornadoes, earthquakes, lightning storms, etc. They had their World Meeting take place in an underground room that had been made particularly to keep safe during these events.

The state of England and his siblings were one of the worst states out of all the nations attending the meeting. England in particular had the worst of his siblings; because he represented not only England, but the whole U.K. His hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in ages, and he wore a tattered sweater with worn out jeans. He was shivering; not able to get warm no matter how he tried. Sympathetic looks were given to him; they all knew what was to come of the island nation.

America and Canada were to the left and right, respectively, of him. They wanted to be by his side till the moment he disappeared. Although at times they acted like they hated the man; they truly cared about their parental figure, and didn't want him to die. America, in an attempt to make it seem like everything was perfectly fine, started to go off about aliens and super-heroes and hamburgers. He kept glancing at the Englishman, trying to crack a reaction from him. What he would do to make the blonde start ranting about how McDonalds was 'bloody disgusting' and 'absolute rubbish'; and that his cooking was perfectly fine, and how everyone else didn't have any taste buds. The American wanted to see some sort of normality about England; he couldn't stand seeing him in such a weak condition.

Canada also attempted to get the Brit back to his normal self. He tapped on England's shoulder, his polar bear in hand, and asked him in French if the man remembered who he was. French, the language the Englishman despised. France, the man that England had grown to hate over the centuries he had known him. But there was no reaction, except for a blank stare of dull, green eyes.

Canada's polar bear, Kumajirou, started to talk to the Canadian; but in a way that he would wish for any time but now.

"You're Canada?"

"..."

"Are you Canada?"

"..."

"CANADA?"

"..."

Canada wanted to yell at the bear. He wanted to say that Canada wasn't his name, so that the bear would ask him, "Who are you?" It was the irony of the situation. Now that Canada was in a catastrophe, the bear would remember who he was. What was even more ironic was the fact that Canada too could remember the bear's name. Not Kumakeechee, not Kumalido, but Kumajirou.

Prussia was the only one of the nations who was in a somewhat 'decent' state. There were dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping because he was taking care of his brother; but other then that, his disheveled state was a lot better than what the other the other nations were going through. It was because he didn't truly have a nation to represent. He was one of the few nations who survived the end of their country. He wanted to tell the other nations how he had survived through his nation dying, but he truly didn't know. All he knew is that he went through a state of depression and temporary-insanity; before going back to the self he previously was, but without the burden of being a country. With all of his 'awesome' heart, he wished for his brother, Italy, and all the other nations to survive this. He knew deep down though, that the majority, if not practically everyone, wouldn't survive this. Even he had a low chance of surviving. Even so, he continued to press onward in his mind, not letting the fear of dying get him down. He was going to survive, he was too awesome to die! Anyways, that's what he told himself.

England felt extremely sick to his stomach. His skin was growing paler and paler, till he was practically transparent. He wanted to throw up, pass out, or both. Nausea was getting to him, and his whole body was throbbing with intense pain.

France, sitting across the room, noticed this, and called out with a fake tone of smug-ness to get someone's attention, "Anglettere, you look as pale as snow! Your cooking eez finally getting to you, non?"

America glanced over at the Englishman when France had said something, and his eyes widened slightly as he saw how pale the man had gotten over the past few minutes. He hurriedly grabbed a glass of water, and gently yet firmly made England drink it.

Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, and Ireland looked over at their younger brother. They acted like they hated him most of the time, and they felt as if they did hate him a lot as well. But, deep down, they were siblings. Siblings who truly cared about one another. Northern Ireland held out a hand to England, who shakily accepted it. Scotland was holding onto Northern Ireland, England, Ireland, and Wales, and vice versa; the siblings trying to keep each other steady so that they didn't all crash to the ground. They all needed to stay alive; they couldn't let one person die. It was an unsaid commitment in the Kirkland family. They've pushed each other to Hell and back, but when it came down to it, they truly all loved each other.

So when Wales fell to his knees, shaking severely; they knew they were all going to die. One by one, 'Global Warming' was to kill them. And not only them; it was to kill every single nation on Earth.

Northern Ireland and Ireland stayed by Wales's side, making him lay down and take it as easy as he could. England, although in a poor state himself, sprinted over to the miniature kitchen and got a glass of water for his brother. Scotland ran over to the cupboard; grabbing several blankets and a wet rag.

The Scottish man placed the blankets on top of Wales, and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. England had his brother sit up and drink the water inside the glass, before making him lay down again. Wales's pet sheep laid down next to its owner, licking Wales's cheek so that Wales wouldn't fall asleep. It knew as well as anyone there at the meeting that his owner was to die.

America hesitantly turned on the TV, and what he and everyone else knew was confirmed; Wales was flooded completely. England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Ireland were almost completely flooded. When one of them dies, it's only a matter of time till the next one in line dies. England stared down at his brother, who was starting to fade. _Not again... Not again... Not again...!_

After a few minutes, the Welsh man whispered the words in a hoarse voice, "Goodbye, me broth's and me sis. Per'aps I'll see ye' all soon."

He closed his eyes, his body dissolving into the air. Looks of grief and sorrow were evident on everyone in the room's face, although none more so than the rest of the Kirkland family.

[Lost Wales.]

A/N: Well, I'm back to writing! Although, to my readers of the other stories I've written, I won't continue Rain Drops and Sunshine. PM me if you'd like to take over the story with a small sample of your writing. c: Heh, anyways; I was in the mood to write a more depressing fanfic with the topic of Global Warming. What do you guys think? Should I continue...? :3 ~TA97~

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia or McDonalds. And I would never like to own either of them.


	2. Chapter 2

~The Harsh Reality~

[A/N: For music to listen while reading this, I recommend the HetaOni soundtrack playlist there is on Youtube. That's what I listen to while writing this~ ]

An hour or so after the Welsh man had disappeared into thin air; everyone left the meeting. Everyone, that is, except the Kirkland siblings. They had almost no home to go back to; it was only a matter of minutes before the all died. America and Canada left the room shortly after everyone else did, saying that if the siblings needed anything, that the two of them would be in the other room.

Ireland, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and England all huddled up together in the corner of the room; a gigantic blanket spread across their bodies as they leaned against the wall in a sitting position. How much longer? How much longer until... Until they all disappeared?

Scotland began to cough violently, barely able to stop coughing for a moment so he could breathe. Ireland wrapped an arm around the Scot's waist, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Her own state was just as bad as his; and she was getting extremely dizzy as well. Even so, she continued to hold onto her brother; not wanting to accept the fate that had come upon them all.

England and Northern Ireland's hands were clamped together; they didn't, no, they **couldn't** let go. Northern Ireland reached out to Scotland, and entwined his other hand in Scotland's hand. A crack of a smile met the Scottish man's lips.

"Heh, I always thought I would going tah die fro' the eejits cooking, so this migh' be a better alternative, aye?"

England scowled, giving a slightly annoyed look to the Scotsman.

"You wouldn't have bloody died from my cooking in the first place, wanker. You would have died from your own cooking! Which by the way, is bloody atrocious!"

A smirk made itself evident on Scotland's face, as he replied, "It's better then yours, eejit. Ye cannae cook anything even if yer life depended on it."

Northern Ireland sighed; could his siblings not get along even at a time like this? He was going to speak up about the arguing, when he noticed the grin on both of their faces. They were laughing... A smile formed onto his lips, and he chuckled slightly.

Ireland had a huge smirk on her face, and said, "Ye both are bloody eejits. Cannae not fight, even if it is yer dying day, aye? Yer both pathetic."

America peeked his head into the rooms, expecting some sort of sob fest; and was caught completely off guard when all he found was the Kirkland siblings laughing their heads off while arguing. He grinned; he should've known this would happen.

America called out to them, "Hey, you guys! We have some food inside! Want some?"

England looked over at all his siblings; who all gave an approving look, and he called out in a slightly weak but firm voice, "Sure. We'll be right up there in a moment, then!"

America gave them all a thumbs up, and walked back inside the house. The siblings all stood up, their hands no longer interlocked; but it was their laughing faces that kept them together. Ireland opened the door, and followed by Scotland, Northern Ireland, and England; they all went inside the house.

They immediately went the direction that they could smell something cooking in; and ended up after a moment in the kitchen. America spotted them and waved, as Canada continued to cook.

"Come sit down! HAHAHAHA! Mattie decided that he would make us all pancakes, isn't that awesome? He has pancake mixes that he stocked up on before countries started to flood and stuff; so he's actually able to have them! Man, I wish I had thought of that! I could've stocked up on McDonalds! Now all I have to eat are food rations that my boss gives me to eat..."

England sat down, his nausea coming back and hitting him in the head again. Who was to die now? He glanced over at all his siblings; and they all seemed to be in about the same condition he was in, if not worse. Scotland, Ireland, and Northern Ireland's fingers were intertwined underneath the table, giving each other the last supportive gesture they would ever recieve. England mouthed the word 'Who?' a second before the TV announced that the countries of Ireland and the United Kingdom were completely underwater. His eyes widened, and he frantically tried to hold onto what little life he had in his mind.

Scotland grinned, as he looked over to England and said, "Take care o' whoever is left after all this clears up, aye, ye eejit? I'm going to be takin' care o' me broth's and me sis, wherever we're going."

The Englishman was about to protest, when his siblings gave him a last smile, and faded into the air. His body began to tremble. He wanted to go with them...! Why wasn't he disappearing too?

[Lost Ireland]

[Lost Northern Ireland]

[Lost Scotland]

A surge of nausea erupted within him, and he shakily ran over to the bathroom in the house; efficiently puking his insides out. Spikes of pain attacked his body constantly, and the nausea didn't show any sign of going away. England's hands clamped over his ears, and a scream of pure terror and pain escaped his lips. _It hurts... It hurts...IT HURTS!_

He banged his fists against the wall, his body shaking like no tomorrow. He wanted the pain to stop; he would do anything for it to stop. It felt like a thousand and one knives were being stabbed into him repeatedly. It was more pain then he had ever experienced in his life time of being a country by a landslide. He would rather die then last through this seemingly forever-enduring torture.

America turned around, and saw that England, Ireland, Northern Ireland, and Scotland had disappeared. Where had they gone? 

_"The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, along with the country of Ireland, is completely under water."_

The American's eyes widened. Were they all gone? Did they all disappear the moment he turned his back to talk to Canada? A scream made its way into the room; one that was strikingly familiar... England! He was still alive!

He ran as fast as he could to the location of the scream, and almost threw up when he saw the English man. His face was paler then anything the American had ever seen in his life; and streams of tears were running down his eyes. His body was shaking tremulously, and his hands were covering his ears; while he continued to scream out in pain. The Brit didn't seem to notice him; it seemed as if he was lost in his own world. A world of pain. Pain, suffering, misery; torture.

Was this the cost of surviving when your country disappears? Was _this_ what you had to survive in order to live like Prussia had? America wanted to puke. The sight of England in this much pain... It was unbearable. Why would he- no, why would _anyone_ have to go through so much pain in order to survive? It wasn't fair! But then again, life in itself wasn't fair.

All he could do was not hurl at the sound of the screams and the choked tears that the British man produced. His hands shook slightly, not able to take this much longer. He ran out of the bathroom, running towards the Canadian flipping pancakes; and embraced him in a scared hug.

"Mattie... Mattie... Mattie!"

The Canadian looked over to the American questioningly; as the American held onto him tighter and tighter.

"You're choking me, Al. What is it...?"

America whimpered slightly, as he managed to choke out, "It's England... He... He... The screams... Oh God... No..."

Canada's eyes widened. Those were _his_ screams..? And for the fact that America called England his actual name, instead of Iggy... Canada turned the skillet off and focused his attention on his brother.

"What's going on with England, Al...? Why is he screaming...?"

It took all his effort not to yell out the questions at his brother. Canada too had a slight fondness for the English man. Sure, he had forgotten him quite often... But when he did remember who Canada was, he was a nice person to spend time with.

"I...I...He's in so much pain, Mattie... I don't know why he's in so much pain... He should've disappeared with all his siblings... But... But.."

Realization hit the Canadian suddenly.

"You mean... He has a chance of staying alive, even after his country has died...?"

The American nodded vigorously. "But Mattie... What do we do until he gets through this... I won't be able to sleep, hearing his screams, and..."

The screams stop abruptly, and the North American brothers aren't sure if it's a good or a bad thing. The two of them rush over to the bathroom, to reveal a hyperventilating man going into some sort of shock. A look of severe worry crosses both of their faces, and they yell at England the word 'BREATHE!' over and over. After a minute of this, he finally stops hyperventilating, but there is absolutely no color in his skin; and he still seems to be going into shock. America carefully picks the Englishman up, and Canada grabs a few blankets, along with a heating pad and a wet rag. They lay him onto an extra bed in the house; and cover him with the blankets. Canada places the heating pad onto his stomach, while America puts the wet rag onto his forehead.

"Mattie...Do you think he's going to be okay...?"

"I... I'm not sure, Al... Let's hope he will be okay... For now, let's take shifts watching over him, making note of any changes. We need to hydrate him as soon as he wakes up as well, and slowly switch over to solid foods after that."

America nods, looking down at England sadly.

Canada takes his brothers hand, and says, "I have some pancakes on the counter that you can eat. I'll do first shift, okay? But you have to bring me some pancakes as well, eh? I'm a bit hungry."

"Alright, Mattie! I'll be right back!"

The American rushes to the countertop, and piles a few pancakes onto a plate for Canada. He drizzles a ton of maple syrup on top of them, just as his brother likes, and grabs a fork. He walks back into the room where Canada and England are; and hand the pancakes and fork to the Canadian.

"Thanks, Al."

"Mmhmm! It's the job of the hero to make sure Mattie gets his pancakes, after all!"

Canada smiles slightly, and America leaves the room; getting his own pancakes.

The two of them took shifts every hour; but after 6 hours of this, there had been no changes except for the fact that England had finally fallen asleep. That night, the two North American brothers fell asleep next to England's bed; waiting for him to finally wake up. There was a possibility in their mind, though, that they had pushed to the back. _What if he doesn't survive the pain he had went through earlier? What if they wake up, and England's body has disappeared? _They didn't want to consider it. It would be too painful, after all.

So they ignored the possibility of that happening; and continued to dream. Dream of a world where all their fellow nations coexisted, a world where there was no 'Global Warming', a world where no one would die or be in severe pain. A world that would never exist any place but their minds.

[England's status has been reduced to: Coma.]

[A/N: Wow, I finished the second chapter so quickly... ;w; *Is so proud of herself* Ahahaha, I love torturing the characters I roleplay as. |D *RolePlays as England and Norway. Which the fun in torturing /him/ will come in the next chapter~* ...There's obviously something wrong with my brain. But it's enjoyable for me to write depressing things like this~ ANYWAYS. I'd like some more reviews! What do you think of the story so far? Is there anything you think I should elaborate on? I'd love to hear from you guys! ~TA97~]

[Disclaimer: I-I don't own Hetalia or anything...! HMPH. *Disclaimer: ROMANO STYLE.*]


End file.
